


In His Honor

by Iron



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:39:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur’s lungs are black with smoke; it curls around his head, soft tendrils brushing against his cheeks</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Honor

Arthur’s lungs are black with smoke; it curls around his head, soft tendrils brushing against his cheeks. The white papered fag is pressed tight between his lips, the end kept dry with long centuries of practice. 

“I’m old,” he says to the empty alley way. All that answers him is the cries of fucking cats, and isn’t that so fitting? Still, he keeps talking, of only for the fact that he’s drunk enough for the audience not to matter. “I’m as old as civilization itself. I have watched empires fall, have fallen, gotten up again. 

“I’ve killed. Gone to war. Raised some kids.” A smile, here. He had liked that, having the little bints running ‘round his knees. He takes a drag from his cigarette, lets the smoke out slow. It’s more bitter than sweet, nowadays. 

“I’m tired.” It’s the only admittance the once-great nation has ever made to that effect. To say any more was to admit a greater weakness; and he had not survived this long to be felled by something so immaterial as age. 

The fag has burnt down to the filter. He flicks it away, drawing and lighting a new one in one slick motion. He takes a drag from it, puffs out a few smoke rings. He remembers when he would do this for Alfred, how the boy had been fascinated by the shapes he could make. 

Pale fingers slip into the pockets of too-tight jeans. It’s cold. Goosebumps rise up on his skin, and he can hear the pounding club music through the concrete. “I’ll be here when the last nation falls,” He says again, and takes one last drag from the cig before grinding it under his boot. Time to return to the party, plaster a smile on his face and pretend he cares.

It was in his honor, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> ... I really am becoming the queen of oneshots  >P
> 
> Whelp, tell me what you think! Areas of improvement? Things I did well?
> 
> ~Iron :)


End file.
